A Drabble
by CryHope
Summary: ChaseCameron drabble...part two: she doesn't want him to lose more
1. Lust

**Title:** Lust (a drabble)

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Lust is a two way street. Chase/Cameron.

**Spoilers:** the infamous Hunting scene

**Disclaimer:** I asked nicely, but they said I'm too poor.

**A/N:** I know this scene has been done and beaten to death, but I'm supposed to be studying, and the pretty was there to distract me. Not beta-ed, and my first drabble. May continue if prodded with reviews. Happy Reading.

Lust is a two way street.

No, not love, because you can love someone, you can love him or her enough to think that they love you back, and maybe they do, but nobody knows these days…. And marriage, marriage is a two-way street; it's a mix of give and take, it won't work without learning the signs of the street and to know when to yield and let the other pass. But marriage is not love, because love doesn't mean marriage, thus love is not a two-way street. Love is something that you hoped upon, hang your wishes and a distant assurance that as you deal with life and its shit, will be there to greet you one day, maybe even stay with you. But you doubt it; because you already convince yourself that love is a lonely road, where only your old wishes act as the signs and your car its only occupant.

Lust is a two way street.

You can fixate on someone, undress her whenever she walks past, and spill coffee when she suddenly graces you with her attention. But that's not lust. That's fixation… or attraction. But not lust. Because lust is when she called and you drove across town, hoping, willing, and praying that all the traffic lights are green and you can be there in fifteen… no ten minutes and knock on the familiar door and smiled when you thought she had changed her mind about that drink. You were fixated at her, pupils dilating, hands undressing, and mouth spilling her want for you, and the fixation became lust. Because she is gazing at you through drug-induced euphoria; dainty hands usually reserved for saving lives tugging away your shirt, and her attention is finally challenging the innocent in you, the part where you believe that love is a two way street.

But you learn that lust is the better two way street, where all the signs are askew and both of you drive on the wrong side of the street…. She with her excuses—drugs, holier-than-thou attitude, broken pieces—and you with the burden of God's conscience and disappointments of two way street mirage.

Lust is a two street.

Because she's there, pulling you along for the ride, and it was easier to speed through the signs rather than learning them. The moment she throw her head back, arching her spine, and the scenery past you by in blinding lights and glorious ecstasy, you prefer that lust is a two way street. Because she's there, and you're inside of her, and lust is easier than reading the signs and following the rules.


	2. Blood

**Title:** Blood (2/?)

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**A/N:** The italicized words are taken from Sia "Breathe Me". Thanks to those who reviewed the previous part.

_Hurt myself again today  
And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame_

He opened with a bottle of water—not gin or whiskey or even beer, but water – in his hand, casually leaning against the doorframe, the damn water bottle waving in front of her face.

She was about to say… something, when he stepped aside and mutely invited her in. She guessed that maybe if he didn't say it, it doesn't mean that he's opening up. And really, she shouldn't feel this giddy about being let into Chase's apartment, and once she replaced the giddiness, she was hit with a wave of guilt.

Because she had read the obituary six months ago, and had given her last empathy space to a boy who was clutching his mother's hand instead of the boy who had no one to hold onto. By the time she had gotten to Chase, he had withdrawn into his world of puzzles and a stronger batch of coffee, seemingly oblivious to her as she tries to find a way to say she's sorry. _I'm sorry_. And the words at the tip of her tongue felt all together familiar and empty. Instead she placed her hand on his shoulder and ruffled his hair as she past by him, a gesture that seems familiar to an onlooker, but in reality, made him stiffen and glanced at her briefly. She gave him a smile as she stirred in more sugar than necessary, and he had given her a brief boyish grin in return and went back to his puzzle.

She was reassured—or had taken it as a reassurance—that he was handling the news fine by the way that he was acting all _Chase-like_, pen in his mouth, never pencil when doing his puzzles, and brows furrows in concentration. She had taken this normal behavior and reassured herself that he was fine… probably felt indifference toward his father death.

Apathy. That's what he is.

Empathy. That's what she is.

They were staring at each other now, she with her guilt written all over her face unsure if she wanted to say _I'm sorry_ and him, standing there watching her, waiting for the sympathetic Cameron to take over and tries to fix a well scattered broken pieces inside of him. Instead of the words_, I'm sorry for your loss_, stumbling out of her mouth, his mouth had stumbled upon hers; the sound of water bottle hitting the ground and rolling away muffled her surprised gasp.

She clutched at his shirt's lapels, and quickly loosened the already loose tie and let the offending garment joined the water bottle on the floor. He maneuvered her towards the couch, letting himself fall first and she followed, accidentally biting his lip.

"I'm sorry"

He looked at her, and said, "Don't."

" You're bleeding."

" It's just blood."

And she didn't know if they're still talking about his lip. But she slowly licked the cut, tasting copper and salt and hidden poignant memories. He's already bloodless, no mother or father or siblings, and Chase were the last remaining blood and she wanted to prevent him from losing more. So, she let him hold her, hands slowly tracking their way underneath her blouse, as she probed every crevices of his mouth, painstakingly gentle as the muscles underneath her quiver and accept the six-month news.

He had undressed her hurriedly, similar to her actions a couple of weeks before—hands tugging and pulling articles of clothing, mouth trailing against patches of skins. She remembered that twice leads to complication, but she didn't dare say that as she caught the look of lost in his face and come to understanding. He's lost and angry. Lost without his anger towards his father. Lost when the bow that had wrapped his life's complications died and left him to deal with unresolved problems. As she tore the condom with her teeth, she gave him reassurance that she'd be his momentary complication. He gave her the same boyish smile he gave her six months before, and gave her the best fuck she ever had.

Afterward, she didn't know if she had tasted sweat or tears on his chin as she sandwiched herself between the back of the couch and Chase's body, the feel of expensive afghan draped over her naked body.

" I loved him."

" I know."

And maybe she wanted the momentary complication as well.

_Be my friend  
Hold me, wrap me up  
Unfold me  
I am small  
I'm needy  
Warm me up  
And breathe me_

_(Sia "Breathe Me")_


End file.
